Heiress
by Victoria of England
Summary: An alternate unvierse in which Arthur survives, Anne doesn't, and Elizabeth is always a princess
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Just a thought that popped into my head… not sure about it, but worth a try. **

_7 September 1523_

Time had broken the hearts of Henry's family… had taken all their precious love and bonds and thrown them away.

Prince Henry, Duke of York, was not raised to be King. At thirty-two, he was still surprised that there was even such a possibility. His brother, Arthur II, was the King of England, and had been since 1507. Henry had always been the spare, the one that was not supposed to have heirs. But here he was.

Arthur and his wife, Katherine of Aragon, had trouble bearing children. They only had none to survive infancy, leaving the question of the succession open.

With no child, Arthur decided it was time for his brother to marry and father heirs; else the Tudor dynasty would be ended. Queen Katherine, a princess of Spain by birth, wanted him to marry one of her Spanish nieces. But Henry would have none of it – he would marry his lady-love and none other. Anne Boleyn, the daughter of widower Sir Thomas Boleyn and his first wife, Lady Elizabeth Howard, herself the daughter of Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, had become his bride.

When their engagement was announced, Arthur had honored Boleyn with the title Viscount Rochford, and when they had wed in January he had been named Earl of Ormond, allowing his son to become Viscount Rochford. Now, with the birth of his brother's first child, Arthur was going to name Boleyn the Duke of Wiltshire.

With his three children by his first wife, Sir Thomas was skilled at arranging great marriages. His eldest, Mary Boleyn, had been the King of France's mistress, and thus she had three bastards – Jacqueline Valois, Luc Valois, and Brigitte Valois. She had returned to England and married Sir William Carey, who had been made a baron on the occasion of his sister-in-law's marriage to a prince. As of yet, the Careys had no legitimate children, but it was possible that they soon would.

Anne herself was only sixteen when they married – was only sixteen to this day. Their marriage had been a triumph for the Boleyns, as was the fact that she was pregnant almost immediately. She had been a virgin on their wedding night – Henry was sure of_ that_ – and she had been quick to conceive.

As for George Boleyn, he was nineteen currently. His marriage to Lady Jane Parker, a baron's daughter, was said to be pending, though Henry thought Lady Jane was perhaps the strangest creature he had ever met. George and Anne were close, closer than Mary and Anne were, and sometimes Henry envied them that.

But he himself had two sisters, Margaret and Mary. He was very close with Mary, though not with Margaret. When Margaret was young she had left to marry James IV of Scotland and they had one surviving son, James V, who had been made King of Scots ten years ago when he was only a baby of a year old due to his father's death. Margaret was married a second time, to Archibald Douglas, the Earl of Angus, a year after James IV's death, and had one daughter, Lady Margaret Douglas. Lady Margaret was brought up essentially with her half-brother.

But Henry was closest to Mary, his younger sister. Mary had been married to Louis XII for a few months in 1514, though this yielded no children. She then secretly married Henry's best friend, Charles Brandon. Charles was made Earl of Lincoln and he and Queen Mary, as she was called, had three children of her own, Lady Frances, Lady Eleanor, and Lord Henry, who had only just been born.

And now it was Henry's turn to lose. He had seen his brother mourn time and time again for the loss of a child, but now he was mourning another loss entirely.

Anne was dying. She had given birth to a child – a beautiful, healthy daughter, who she begged him to call Elizabeth. She made him promise to love Elizabeth and give her the best of everything. Henry "Hal" Fitzroy, Henry's little illegitimate son, stood by him as his stepmother struggle with fever.

Hal was his son by Bessie Blount, and was born in 1519. Anne had begged him to raise Hal and Elizabeth together, so Henry had sent for Hal, who was very fond of his stepmother. He would place them under the care of his sister, and he would have them cared for together at Hatfield House. Mary would remain at court with Charles and oversee the household from afar. The Carey children, if they came, would be placed there, too, and Henry was sure Arthur would want the last Tudor heir that was not King of Scotland, Margaret Douglas, to also have a place in the royal nursery.

Anne – his beloved Anne – was going to die, and he accepted that. Now all he could do was cherish Elizabeth with everything he had.

_12 September 1523_

"Well, Anne's dead," Mary Tudor, Dowager Queen of France announced sadly. She put down the letter that carried the sad news. Her husband sighed, knowing that her brother, his friend, would be mourning.

"May she rest in peace," he declared. "I imagine Henry wants us back at court to be with him?"

"Yes," Mary nodded, frowning slightly. "He's sending Hal and the new princess, Elizabeth, to Hatfield House, and wants us to send our children with them, and for me to oversee the household through governesses. Lady Margaret Douglas is being sent there, as well – Lady Carey's child will be as well, when it is born."

"You'll do it, of course," Charles guessed, and his wife nodded.

"Lady Bryan is to be the head governess," she declared. "George Boleyn is to be chief mourner at her funeral… Henry's arranged it to be a very grand affair, and the memorial he is putting up for her is something wildly enviable."

"I'd rather be alive with no memorial than dead with a nice one," Charles grumbled, and Mary had to laugh.

"Yes, I suppose so," she agreed. "But poor Henry has nothing else he could do… already Katherine's trying to arrange a marriage between him and her niece."

"Which one? She's got so many," he reminded her.

"The daughter of her sister, Juana, the youngest and only postmortem child of Philip, Juana's husband is called Catalina, but here she shall be known as Catherine of Castile. Her brother is Charles I of Spain, and Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor. The other option is an older sister of Charles and Catalina's, called Eleanor of Castile, who is Dowager Queen of Portugal."

"Two good brides," Charles nodded approvingly. "But still, perhaps Anne was better for him. I think she was, for her temper matched his and she would not let him have his way. If he'd taken a mistress while she was alive, I don't think she'd have left him to it. It's a mercy that he didn't."

"No one will ever be as good for him as Anne was," Mary agreed. "But I suppose one of these princesses can handle him."

_15 September 1523_

"My wife has been dead for less than a week! Her funeral was yesterday! And already, you ask me to remarry," Henry yelled outrageously. Queen Katherine had never gotten along with him, and this was the final straw.

"It is for the good of the country!" she shrieked. Henry glared.

"You were raised a princess," Henry told her, his voice low and threatening. "And you learned many lessons surrounding royalty, and how we must act. But you forgot one very important lesson, Katherine."

Henry's attendants and Katherine's ladies leaned forward, all eager to hear what lesson their Queen had forgotten – or, perhaps, never learned.

"Royals are people, too – people with emotions, people who love and who hate. And we have as much right as anybody else to mourn a wife not yet cold in her grave."

"Not when their country's succession is in danger, they aren't!" Katherine shrieked. "For now you've got Elizabeth, but if she's not accepted, you must have a son! You must remarry – to a good, Spanish princess – and have heirs for England!"

A daughter is better than no heir at all," Henry reminded her. "And if I do remarry, who's to say that I must marry a princess? Furthermore, who's to say that I must marry a _Spanish_ one?"

Katherine gasped, at a loss for words. She knew that typically, she held more power than the average Queen, as Arthur listened to her and heeded her advice. But he knew her to be blinded by her ambitions for Spanish and Imperial alliances, and the interests of her own blood, and that often translated to unnecessary cruelty toward her siblings. He didn't listen to her in terms of his family.

"Send for the King!" Henry ordered, and one of Katherine's ladies rushed out to do as he commanded.

Arthur arrived, and immediately he noticed the tension between his wife and brother.

"Your brother is a selfish creature, who will not think of the good of his country!"

"Your wife is a heartless Queen, who will not allow a man to mourn for his wife!"

Arthur froze. Many times, Katherine and Henry had disagreed, but it had all been settled quickly. Even when Henry wished to marry Anne, and Katherine had thrown a fit, they both knew he would accept no other, and it was for the good of England.

He had known this moment was coming, and he had dreaded it.

"What is going on here?" he demanded, needing time to think. "Katherine I shall hear your side of this story, with no interruptions from Henry. Then Henry I shall hear your side, with no interruptions from Katherine."

Katherine told how she had sent for the Prince her brother-in-law, and had spoken calmly and kindly to him about the possibility of marrying again. It was for the good of England, she explained, and it would result in an alliance with her home country of Spain.

Henry then told how Katherine had sent for him and assaulted him with names of Spanish and Portuguese princesses, and the benefits of each potential bride, not twenty-four hours after the funeral of Anne. "Not yet cold in her grave and already on the verge of replacement!" he had stormed. He explained that he would take no bride – not with Anne so recently dead, and that he would honor her by waiting out a year.

"No mistresses, no women, no courting, nothing, for an entire year," Arthur contemplated. "All of your attention will remain on your children and this country, which you will one day be king of, for a year from the day of Anne's death. When you fail in this, you will marry."

"But an heir must be born!" Katherine protested weakly.

"We can wait a year," Arthur placated her. "Even if I should die in that time, or Henry should, it is not likely that both of us shall. And if so, Elizabeth shall be Queen… you were not so against a Queen Regnant one upon a time." Arthur gave his wife a questioning look, as though wondering at her hypocrisy. Katherine blushed, knowing the implications of her words.

"I've nothing against a female ruler," she declared. "My mother, Isabel I, was the greatest ruler Castile ever had. But England is not Spain, and Queen Regnants are much less welcome here, as the only one, the Empress Mathilda, was not a good one. A son would be more welcome by the people."

"Then Elizabeth will do for now," Arthur concluded, and walked out of the room, bringing many observers with him.

_22 September 1524_

"I must admit I'm surprised you kept your word," Arthur admitted. "It's been more than a year since Anne died, and in all that time I haven't seen you look twice at any woman. I'm rather impressed."

Henry grinned at his older brother.

"I'm glad I did," he said. "It honored Anne, in a way, and I think she'd have liked it. But I suppose I've got to marry now – some Spanish princess, if your wife has anything to say about it."

"Katherine and I have picked suitable princesses from several countries," Arthur told him. "Catherine of Castile and Eleanor of Castile are both nieces of Katherine's, but Renee of France is not, and we know she was a dear friend of Anne's. There are a few others, and you can pick the one you marry… but Henry, I am asking you to marry one of them."

"Not Renee," Henry declared automatically. "As you say, she was Anne's friend… I could never marry a friend of Anne's. It would seem… wrong, I suppose. And she would remind me of Anne too much. It would make Katherine happy if I married the Castilian girl, wouldn't it?"

"It would," Arthur agreed. "But she won't say anything either way, and she can't argue the succession if you chose someone else. This is your choice, Henry, but I would like you to be married by New Years."

Henry nodded, "Yes, I'll look into it. I'll give you my answer by October."

_23 October 1534_

Lady Bryan watched the Duke of York as he balanced his year old daughter on his knee.

He was good with her, an attentive and loving father. He spent many days at Hatfield House, bestowing much-needed attention on his daughter, and on his son, as well. Lord Henry, or Lord Hal as he was called commonly, stood next to his father and his sister. The child was truly a miracle – he didn't resent Elizabeth in the slightest for being legitimate while he was only a bastard. He was protective of her, and adored her completely. He often sat and played with her for hours, or told her about her mother, who was the only mother he could ever remember.

Sitting around the duke were the other members of the little household. Lady Frances Brandon held her brother, Lord Henry Brandon, and Lady Eleanor Brandon hovered around them with Lady Catherine Carey in her arms. Lady Margaret Douglas sat at her uncle's feet.

Only days ago had Lady Bryan had heard that there was a possibility of Lady Carey's children by the French King coming to Hatfield. She was waiting for the prince to say something about it, and praying he would not. She loved children, especially those under her care, but she did not think adding three more burdens – particularly burdens being sent from France – would be the best idea for her current charges. But she did not speak.

"Hal," she heard the prince say, "Would you like a new mother?"

Hal didn't answer, and seemed surprised.

"The King, your Uncle and the Queen, your Aunt, think should remarry again," Henry told his son. "Do you think I should? Would you make sure Elizabeth knows all about her mama?"

"Yes, Father," Hal promised, thinking about the woman who had only been his mother for a few short months. His life had drastically improved during her time as his mother, and he would be forever grateful, and love her forever, and make sure her daughter was petted and cared for and happy always.

"Good boy," Henry nodded. "I'll bring your new stepmother to meet you soon.

_5 November 1524_

"I already married for political purposes," Eleanor protested. "Manuel I, my husband, had married my aunt Isabella, who died childless, and my aunt Maria, both sisters of Mama. Now my sister Catalina is going to marry our cousin and my stepson, Juan II, and you want me to marry Henry of England?"

"Our aunt Katherine married his brother, Arthur," Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor begged his sister. "She is very happy there, though it is cold, and would help you to adjust. Spain and Portugal are united through numerous blood ties, but as Arthur II and Queen Katherine have no children, none link us to England. If you marry Prince Henry, who is set to be King, I promise you shall be very happy."

"I suppose I could marry him," Eleanor agreed. "I am nineteen… I was only a young girl when I married Manuel, but I am a woman now. Yes, I think I will marry him, and be mother of the King of England! But I hear he has bastards… my ladies told me. Henry and Elizabeth, they are called, are they not?"

"Lord Henry Fitzroy is a bastard, born to a woman by the name of Bessie Blount. But Elizabeth is not… she is a legitimate daughter and heiress, born by Henry's wife, Anne Boleyn, who died in childbirth. Your daughters will rank after Elizabeth, but your sons shall be before her."

"Oh, dear, this shall be difficult," Eleanor sighed. "Bastards I can ignore on the whole, but stepchildren are more difficult. With Manuel's children I simply called them "cousin," as they were my cousins. But what on earth would I do with Henry's Elizabeth?"

_14 December 1525_

"She's beautiful," Eleanor, Dowager Queen of Portugal and Duchess of York, sighed as she looked at the bundle in her arms. She had just given birth to a daughter, a beautiful Princess of York.

Eleanor had loved Elizabeth immediately, and was always good to her, and even Hal and the other Hatfield children had grown on the Spanish princess. With the help of her aunt, the Queen, Eleanor had quickly come to be a prominent member of English society. While she and Henry did not love each other, they got along reasonably well, and Eleanor was now delighted with the child in her arms.

"What shall you call her?" Juana, or Joan, the only lady-in-waiting that had remained in England with Eleanor as Maria de Salinas had remained with Queen Katherine, asked.

"I shall let her father decide," Eleanor declared, knowing that some men were angry with daughters. Just in case this was true, she would placate Henry with this small service.

**A/N: What do you think? Should I continue? What should I name the baby? Should Henry be mad?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well, looks like this is going to continue! Thanks for the reviews. And thanks especially to Lady Eleanor Boleyn, for the name suggestions!**

_14 December 1525_

"Another daughter?" Henry asked when the news was delivered to him by one of his wife's ladies-in-waiting. "I married her to have sons! That was the only reason I married her at all! And all I've got is another daughter?"

"Your own father had two daughters," Queen Mary reminded him. "He had our sister Margaret before he had me."

"But he had Arthur before Margaret and me before you. Daughters are useful political tools, I will admit, but a ruler must have a son."

"Our grandmother Elizabeth Woodville gave birth to three princesses before the first prince, but still she had three princes, and two survived to adulthood – would have survived longer, but they were taken into the Tower."

"That is true," Henry agreed. "And one of those three princesses was our own dear mother, Elizabeth of York. I shouldn't complain. A live daughter is better than a stillborn son. Come," he gestured to the family and friends around him. "Let us go see the Duchess of York. I'm sure will be happy to have guests."

The procession walked through the halls of the castle with the Duke of York at its head. When they arrived in the Duchess of York's chambers, Henry opened to door to find King Arthur and Queen Katherine waiting to see Eleanor.

"The Duchess is resting, your Grace," one of the ladies informed him. "If you would like to see your daughter, she is here." Henry gestured to have the child handed to him.

"Has the Duchess named her?"

"No," Juana informed him. "She has made it clear that she will leave that to you."

"Very well," Henry glanced up, and his gaze fell upon his sister, Queen Mary, and her husband Charles. They had done much for him and for his children, and he could think of no better way to thank them. "Name her Mary," he ordered. "And sister, I would be honored if you and your husband would stand as godparents for the child, your namesake." Mary smiled, and accepted, rather flattered.

"And Joan," he turned to Juana. "I think my wife would like it if you would stand as secondary godmother."

"I would be honored," the lady curtsied.

"Very well," Henry agreed. "Send for me when the Duchess awakens."

_15 December 1525_

"He was mad, then?" Eleanor asked Juana.

"Not particularly," Juana admitted. "I've heard he's got quite the temper, but I saw no sign of it. He's named the child Mary, after his sister." Eleanor nodded, contemplating what this could possibly mean.

"He's sending Mary to Hatfield with the other children, then?"

"I would imagine so, though he didn't mention it."

"Well, he can't do anything about the child's sex now, and he loves Elizabeth. Surely he'll love Mary just as much."

"I imagine so, Your Highness. A healthy daughter is a good sign, a much better sign than a miscarriage or a stillbirth. I imagine that your husband is aware of that, and will use it to try to have a male heir on you yet."

"Yes, I should think so," Eleanor agreed. "Though, chances are that he will take a mistress soon, if I don't provide him with a legitimate male heir. And I haven't done that yet. Charles told me that with these English we must be careful. They are not as barbaric as the Scots, but barbaric enough that no woman is safe until she bears her husband a male heir."

"I hardly think it's as bad as that, my lady," Juana giggled. "They seem very civilized to me, though the culture is a bit different than it is back home. I don't think you've got anything to worry about."

"Well, I'll take your word for it, Juana," Eleanor decided. "You can send for Henry now. He did want to see me, didn't he?"

"Yes, my lady."

_20 December 1525_

"Tell me again, Hal!" Princess Elizabeth demanded of her half-brother, Lord Henry Fitzroy.

"I already_ told_ you, Elizabeth," Henry moaned. "We're going to spend Christmas with the grown-ups at court, and when we come back to Hatfield, we're going to bring Princess Mary of York, our sister, back with us."

"Why didn't I meet Princess Mary yet?" Elizabeth demanded. She was only two, and this was a lot of information for her.

"She's only a baby, and Duchess Eleanor only just gave birth to her," Hal explained, trying hard to be patient. He hardly understood these things himself – he was only six. Lady Eleanor Brandon, who was his age, sat next to him, equally confused, trying to act as though she knew things.

"And there's going to be celebrations," eight-year-old Lady Frances Brandon added. "There are always celebrations when a new baby is born to our family, because we're the most important family in England."

"That's because Uncle Arthur is King!" Lord Henry Brandon, who was two like Elizabeth, shouted. He was proud of himself for knowing this.

"Yes, and before Uncle Arthur was King, it was grandfather, but none of us ever met him."

"Not even I met him," Lady Margaret Douglas told them. At ten, Lady Margaret was the oldest of all of them, and the smartest, too. Sometimes, Lady Margaret would go to the French court to see her parents and her half-brother, King James. Her mother was in the midst of attempting to divorce her father, which left Lady Margaret in a bitter mood when she returned from Scotland.

"Tell me about Princess Mary," Elizabeth asked, eager to return to the subject of her new sister.

"Well we don't know her yet, silly," Frances laughed. "We'll see her when you do, and then she'll be around all the time when she comes to Hatfield with us."

"I hope I like her," Elizabeth said. "I should hate to have a sister I couldn't get along with. I hope she becomes my very bestest friend ever!"

"Best friend, Elizabeth, not bestest," Eleanor corrected, proud that she knew this. Their tutor had corrected her on it only last week when she'd made the same mistake, but she was not about to tell little Elizabeth that.

"Oh, hush, Eleanor," Elizabeth ordered exasperatedly. She turned to Hal, suddenly worried. "Will Father like Princess Mary better than he likes me?"

"Don't be silly, Elizabeth," Hal laughed. "Father loves you, and he always will. You remind him of Mama. He loved Mama's eyes, and your eyes are just like hers!"

"But what if Princess Mary has eyes like Mama's, too?" Elizabeth asked, panicking.

"She won't," Hal assured her while the others laughed, "Because Duchess Eleanor is her Mama, not Anne Boleyn, who is your Mama."

"Will she replace me? Will she become Queen after Papa and Uncle Arthur are gone?"

"No," Hal shook his head. "After Papa and Uncle Arthur are gone, Papa's son is going to be King. But he doesn't have a son yet, and if he doesn't have one, then you are going to be Queen."

Elizabeth hesitated. "I'll be Queen of England," she declared. "I know it's awful, but I hope Papa never has another son."

_25 December 1525_

"Merry Christmas to all!" King Arthur shouted happily, and the entire court cheered, "And a warm welcome to the newest member of our royal family, Princess Mary of York!" There were more cheers, and several people toasted the new princess.

Eleanor, the Duchess of York, looked jubilantly happy. When her first daughter, Infanta Maria of Portugal, was born, her husband Manuel I had been comforted only by the fact that he had several sons by his second wife, her aunt Maria. His son by his first wife, her aunt Isabel, and his son by her, had died in infancy.

But Henry had no son to make up for the birth of a daughter – it was a mercy he was so happy about it. Eleanor supposed having a brother who had no child at all had something to do with his acceptance of Elizabeth and Mary.

Henry was the type of many to enjoy attention, whatever forms it came it. In this instance, he would have preferred congratulations in providing a male heir for England, but another daughter brought enough attention to satisfy him temporarily. But he did expect a son soon.

He would call his son Henry… or Edward. He was stuck between those two names. Anne had wanted to call any son they had Henry, so that their children could be Henry and Elizabeth, like his own parents Henry VII and Elizabeth of York. Edward or Thomas would have worked as well, naming the children after Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville or her own parents, Elizabeth Howard and Thomas Boleyn. But if the son was Eleanor's son, Thomas would be out of the question, leaving him to have his son called Henry or Edward.

He watched Elizabeth from where he sat. She would make a good Queen of any country, this clever child of his, but not of England. She would never be Queen of England, though he imagined she could be if she tried. If Elizabeth got the throne, there was no way to know who else would have it after her – sons or daughters, making the succession increasingly unstable. Queen Regnants were a bad idea, only with the exception of Isabella of Castile, but even she had needed her husband Ferdinand II to hold her throne.

And Elizabeth would not have the backing of other countries, either. Her mother's relatives were powerful in England; certainly, thanks to him and Arthur, but in the outside world they held little power. They would be unable to secure a throne for her if the Spanish wanted Mary on it – if Elizabeth and her heirs were removed by the Spanish, England would fall under Spanish control. A son would prevent that. A strong, independent man could hold his own and no one would think of removing him from the throne that would be his birthright.

Perhaps he would arrange Elizabeth a marriage that would make her Queen of France, or of Spain, and that country would gain an excellent Queen Consort in her, as he should have had in her mother.

_26 December 1525_

"Well, Henry didn't seem too disappointed over Princess Mary," Katherine optimistically noted. "Perhaps he isn't going to be upset if he doesn't get a son. I'm sure he will – clearly my niece is fertile – but one can never be sure about these things."

"I know my brother, Katherine," Arthur shook his head. "He'll want a son, and soon. If it takes Eleanor too long to conceive, or she has a succession of miscarriages or stillbirths, he may look elsewhere. If he doesn't get a son, he may want to attempt to legitimize Hal, or another bastard son."

"Only the Pope could do that!" Katherine was pious and had no doubt about that.

"Not if he changed religions," Arthur shook his head sadly. "Then, it would be in the hands of whoever he designates as Head of the Church to legitimize or bastardize people through the hands of God. He could designate himself, as many believe rulers are chosen by God. Or he could just ask the Pope to legitimize his son."

"He could do that," Katherine admitted, "But I'm sure the Holy Father would never do something that God did not believe it was necessary to do. If God thinks one of Henry's bastards is truly legitimate in his eyes, then the Pope will see it done. I have the utmost faith in that. And if it is fate that Elizabeth shall rule – then I have the utmost faith that that shall be done."

"You have a lot of faith, Katherine," Arthur said affectionately. "Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for my brother – or for most of England, in fact."

**A/N: Wow! So most important thing that happened here was Mary… kind of a filler chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it anyway!**


	3. Chapter 3

_31 December 1525_

"Please, Lady Bryan, please!" Princess Elizabeth begged.

"I said no," the woman replied, although something in her softened at the little girl's pleas. "Perhaps if your father came with contradictory orders, I would allow you to stay up later. But certainly not until midnight, Princess. I don't know where you get these ideas."

"I think I will give contradictory orders," a voice said from the doorway. The children rose and bowed and curtsied to the Duke, and Elizabeth ran to him crying, "Papa!"

"Who is the oldest here?" The Duke of York demanded, and Lady Margaret Douglas stepped forward.

"Who is above the age of six?" Lady Frances Brandon joined her cousin.

"You two may stay up until midnight," Henry declared, and the two girls looked delighted. "Eleanor Brandon, you and Hal can stay up until eleven." Hal and Eleanor also looked happy. "Elizabeth and Henry Brandon can stay up until ten, and Catherine Carey and Princess Mary must go to bed on time."

The children cheered, delighted at being allowed to stay up so late.

"Thank you Papa!" Elizabeth cried happily. She was going to be able to stay up until_ ten o'clock_! Only the real grown-ups ever got to stay up _that_ late.

"Margaret and I get to stay up until midnight!" Frances was bragging, but Elizabeth didn't care. Of course, she would have loved to stay up until midnight, but she didn't have to. Ten o'clock was still very late, and everyone would know that she, Elizabeth of York, was the bigger princess, the princess who would one day be Queen of England.

"When I am Queen, I shall stay up as late as I want, every night," she promised herself, "when I am Queen."

Eleanor Habsburg of Castile found herself the center of attention at the court.

_If this is what a daughter can bring me,_ she wondered, _what would a son do? With a son, I would be the wife of the heir to the throne, and the mother to his own heir. As of yet, I'm one of those, but not the other._

Elizabeth was a dear girl and a lovely princess, but Eleanor was not her mother and she, along with the rest of the court, was very aware of the fact.

Regardless, she had proved that she was capable of bearing children, and all of England was confident that soon, she would be the mother of a prince. When that happened, she would have no rival for power in England, except for the King and Queen and her husband. But once the King died, her husband would be King, and Eleanor was sure that she could advise him well and win his trust.

Her power would be equal to what Queen Katherine held now.

Queen Katherine and King Arthur were a well-matched pair, and the King listened to what she had to say and kept her advice in his mind. If Eleanor could wield that influence – that absolute, unshakeable influence – over Henry, then she would be a Queen of England in truth, rather than just in name.

Her thoughts were only one her glory and the hope that was rising within her that she could be the star.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Henry, Duke of York!"

Eleanor turned to the entrance to see her husband. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on her he courteously offered her his arm.

"My lady," he greeted, and she smiled at him.

"My lord," she replied, with a slight curtsey.

"I trust you can entertain yourself," he said, nodding toward where a small group of important members of the Privy Council and Parliament were waiting for him. King Arthur was standing there as well.

"Of course," she agreed, and with a bow he left her side.

Several times throughout the night, Eleanor would glance over to the corner to see if the men were still chatting away, and after several hours she decided that whatever they were discussing was of the utmost importance and her husband would not be joining her for the New Year's celebrations.

"Your Grace," a voice called up to Eleanor, and she glanced down to see Lady Margaret Douglas, her niece. It was late, and Lady Margaret and Lady Frances Brandon were the only children from the nursery who remained at the celebrations.

"Lady Margaret," she greeted. "It's so good to see you. You must be very excited to stay up to see the turn of the New Year."

"Yes, very excited," Lady Margaret agreed. "I believe I got to see it once before in Scotland – Mother and Father were so angry at each other, they forgot to order that I was put to bed at a proper hour."

"Poor child," Duchess Eleanor sighed. The affair with Margaret's mother's divorcing her husband was something that had shocked all of Europe, and Eleanor herself could never imagine being in such a position. Didn't Margaret, Dowager Queen of Scotland, notice the impact that her choices upon her daughter, Lady Margaret Douglas, and perhaps even upon her son, King James V of Scotland?

"Those Tudors," she'd heard someone back home in Spain ranting once. "They want what they want, and they'll do whatever they must to get it. Then once they have it, they find that it's not quite what they thought it would be."

It appeared this was true about Margaret Tudor, and Eleanor Habsburg thought she was one of the most selfish princesses she'd ever met.

"Are you going to visit Scotland at any point this year?" she asked kindly. Despite her personal feelings for Margaret Tudor, she had nothing against the daughter.

"I'm not sure," the girl frowned. "I'd like to see Mother and James… I'd never see Father either way. Your Grace," the ten-year-old exclaimed, instantly distracted at something she observed over her companion's shoulders, "Who's that woman dancing with the Duke my uncle? They've danced together for the past three dances. Oughtn't they to switch it up?"

"Yes, they ought to," Eleanor said, turning to glare at the woman as Margaret pointed her out. "I don't recognize her, but she looks young. She must be new at court."

Lady Margaret Douglas left to talk with Lady Frances Brandon, who was calling her over excitedly. Eleanor of Castile glared at the woman who was stealing her husband's attention. She hadn't even noticed that Henry had left the group that was still debating whatever topic was so very important, but according to Margaret he had been dancing with her for a while. And that was only what the ten-year-old had noticed – very likely it had been longer.

Was this woman his mistress? Eleanor knew how to handle it if she was – put on a brave smile and turn a blind eye. Perhaps it would be harder than she'd often thought to turn her head, and for a moment the pain crippled.

No, she straightened up, remembering her purpose. She was here to be his wife and bear his children, not to keep him from the company of other women. And she mustn't get ahead of herself. Sharing a few dances did not make her his mistress.

Calm down, she told herself, calm down. Just because your daughter was not a son, does not mean he will take a mistress.

"Naturally, we have the Spanish alliances created through the marriages of Your Majesty and Your Grace," Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, was saying, "and regardless, once can always count on the Spanish against the French."

"We don't even know that we are going to war against the French," King Arthur reminded him. "This is a purely hypothetical situation. But yes, I agree that Spain can be counted upon as an ally. Portugal as well – King Juan's wife is Catherine, sister to the Duchess Eleanor."

"The Holy Roman Empire and Spain are one," Thomas Boleyn, Duke of Wiltshire, added. "Between the Habsburgs, Portugal, and England, France would stand no chance. But we must take into account that if France's ally, Scotland, intervenes on their behalf, it would be us that they would attack, much like the Battle of Flodden Field."

"My nephew King James V is only thirteen," Henry reminded him. "The only danger would be a declaration of war from the boy's stepfather, my brother-in-law Archibald Douglas. But we have an advantage over him. We have his daughter."

"And his only heir," Charles Brandon nodded.

"None of us would ever hurt a hair on Lady Margaret Douglas's head, regardless of her father's actions," William Compton felt the need to clarify. "But her father doesn't know that, and it would be wise to use that."

The debate continued, analyzing the alliances of any and every country in and around Europe in the case of war. Henry's mind and eye both drifted, and soon he and his small group of loyal companions found themselves rather out of the discussion at hand.

"Charles," he asked his oldest friend, "Tell me, who is that lady there?"

He was looking at a pretty girl, one who had newly arrived at court. Charles, who made it his business to know everyone at court for moments such as this one, glanced over at her before recognizing her.

"That is Catherine Harding," he declared, noting himself that she was a pretty thing. "Her father is a country squire, and she is his eldest daughter. Lady Harding has only died recently, and Sir Edward Harding sent his four daughters and two sons to court. Catherine is the eldest of them, only twenty herself."

"Is she married?"

"No," Charles shook his head. "None of the family is. Sir Edward was particularly eager to have them come to court that the girls might find husbands and the boys mind find wives, and perhaps earn themselves knighthoods."

"I see," Henry nodded, walking discreetly over to talk with this beautiful Catherine Harding.

"Mistress Harding," he greeted, and the lady glanced up, surprised.

"Your Highness," she curtsied, completely shocked that he knew her.

"May I ask for a dance, my lady?"

"If it please your Grace," she smiled, flattered at the attention.

"Indeed it does," he replied, taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

_3 January 1526_

"Mistress Harding," Henry greeted the lady who had entered his bedchamber.

"You Highness," the lady returned.

She knew what was going to happen. She was ready for it. Her family had encouraged it, and now it was time of her to do her part in advancing her family. She was to become the Duke of York's mistress.

It would earn her the enmity of Queen Katherine and the Duchess Eleanor, but she knew that she had to do it.

**A/N: There it is! Henry's got a mistress… he just can't help himself. Next chapter there will be a time jump. Not long, just a few months. **


	4. Chapter 4

_10 January 1526_

Naturally, all of court knew that Catherine Harding was the Duke of York's mistress. 

Eleanor Habsburg naturally turned a blind eye, as did Queen Katherine and the rest of the royal family with her. The royal children were sheltered from her presence by their governesses, for the Duke would not want his daughters and nieces associating themselves with his mistresses. King Arthur was impartial as always, treating the girl no different than he had before.

But the rest of court adored her.

Henry, Duke of York, had quite a bit of power, due to wealth, title, and being the King's dear brother. He was also expected to be King within the next year or two, as his brother's health was rapidly declining. The amount of influence he had made him an important friend for anyone, and people began to cultivate his favor through that of Catherine Harding.

Only alone, and behind closed doors did the other members of the royal family even say her name.

"Catherine Harding, and any other mistress, is no threat to you," Queen Katherine assured her niece. "You are his wife in the eyes of God, and as such you must be faultless. She will be the star of the court for a little time, and they will adore her as much as he does. And when he no longer adores her, they will no longer adore her, either."

"My husband Charles takes mistresses all the time," Queen Mary comforted her sister-in-law. "At first it bothered me, of course, but I've gotten used to it. He always comes back to me, in the end, and that's what really matters. Henry's like Charles – he can be unfaithful in deed but remain true, in his heart, to his wife."

"Perhaps he could for Anne Boleyn," Eleanor hissed. "But I've never had his heart, so he therefore cannot remain in his heart true to me. It cannot be the English custom for a King to favor the families of his mistresses so highly."

"It is true that the Harding family is now one of the court's most important," Katherine agreed. "But you mustn't think that this is abnormal. They will fall with their daughter and sister. Perhaps one of the boys, if he is clever enough, will gain himself an important position that he will hold when this ends, but once it does his favor will be for his skills alone. And perhaps one of the girls will use the favor to become the wife of an important or rich man. But when this is over, all she will be is the wife of an important or rich man. Their glory will fall, and yours will not."

Mary nodded dutifully at Katherine's side.

"I suppose you must be right," Eleanor attempted to convince herself. "The Boleyn and Howard families are still influential because of their daughter. Favor here must be handed out by the willingness of daughters."

"Only the willingness of daughters to the Duke," Mary laughed. "My husband's mistresses gained little advantage but a dowry, in some cases. You needn't fret. He'll move on the next one within a month."

_Meanwhile_

"I can't decide whether this is a good thing or a bad thing," Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, ranted. His siblings, half-siblings, and their spouses – those that were married and still alive – were at the family meeting. His stepmother, Agnes Howard nee Tilney, was also present, as were his children, wife, and large number of nieces and nephews.

"A bad thing," Agnes Tilney, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, insisted. "If the Duke takes mistresses there could be strife in the royal marriage, and when he becomes King that will not be good for England. Not to mention that Eleanor will keep her eyes open for those bent on enchanting her husband – and we Howards will be amongst her first suspects. Our girls are hardly noted for their virtue."

"A good thing," Thomas Boleyn, Duke of Wiltshire, argued. Wiltshire was Norfolk's brother-in-law through his dead sister Elizabeth, and the father of Anne Boleyn, the Duchess of York. "The less influence Eleanor Habsburg has, the more influence he will allow in Anne's memory – thus the more influence we have. And we can revert back to the game we have played for generations – get our girls in the beds of royals, let them have their bastards, and reap the benefits of it."

"Not to mention that the more time he spends in mistresses' beds, the less he spends in his wife's," Wiltshire's son George Boleyn, Earl of Ormond, added. "The less he goes to her bed, the less likely she shall provide an heir to disinherit Elizabeth."

"Another heir will come eventually, regardless," Edward Howard, the famous Admiral and Norfolk's brother, argued. "If this wife fails to provide one, then she will be set aside and another will take her place."

"Queen Katherine was not set aside," Lady Muriel Knyvett nee Howard, Norfolk's sister, reminded them.

"But Henry is not Arthur, nor is he anything like him," Lord Henry Howard, another of Norfolk's brothers, argued. "Henry will not be satisfied with a female heir, or with no heir at all as his brother was. The moment the opportunity arises, he will take a new bride to replace the old unless she has provided him with a son."

"And one must take into account that Arthur had Henry as an heir," Sir John Howard, another brother, added. "Who has Henry got to succeed him? Elizabeth? Mary? The Brandons? Margaret Douglas? James Stuart?"

"We must work under the assumption that Eleanor Habsburg will produce a male Tudor heir," Norfolk decided. "As my brother Wiltshire previously mentioned, for generations we have provided the Plantagenet kings with willing and fertile girls of aristocratic blood. This technique has worked well in the past – I cannot think of why it wouldn't work well now. We will begin in a few months – for now, all Howard girls – and boys, as a cover – of a certain age will be brought to court."

There was a murmur of agreement and side-discussions on who had daughters and sons of the age to be sent to court.

"Hush," the Duke commanded, "I will decide who comes." He glanced around the room. "None of my children are old enough," he mused aloud. "As are Edmund's and Edward has none. Muriel's Lady Elizabeth Grey, Baroness Lisle is in her twenties and ought to come – she used to be betrothed to Charles Brandon, but that's nothing now. The Knyvett children should come as well – Muriel and Thomas. Elizabeth's are already here, and none of my other brothers have old enough children just yet…" the Duke trailed off. His eyes turned from his siblings to his stepmother and half-siblings.

"William is fifteen," he said, turning to his half-brother. "You are betrothed to Katherine Broughton, but you might as well come as not. Thomas is fourteen, and he may as well come, too. Katherine, Dorothy, George, Agnes, and Anne are all certainly too young… but Elizabeth is debatable." He turned to his stepmother. "Do you find twelve too young to come to court?"

"Not at all," the woman said.

"Very well, then," he agreed magnanimously. "Elizabeth Grey, Muriel and Thomas Knyvett, and William, Thomas, and Elizabeth Howard will all come to court. Ensure that they are well aware of their duty."

"Of course," the Dowager Duchess smiled. Her stepson nodded and left the room, indicating an end to the meeting.

_11 January 1526_

Henry wondered if he should feel guilty.

Mistresses were not new to him – he'd had plenty when he was younger, before he married Anne. Of course, his marriage to Anne and his marriage to Eleanor were completely different. Henry had been in love with Anne and she with him, and he would have never dreamed of taking a mistress while she was his wife.

He imagined it must be hard for a woman to turn her head when her husband took mistresses, and if the wife was in love with her husband, it must have been painful. He never would have wanted to put any unnecessary pain into Anne's life, and even now, with Anne long dead, he winced at the thought.

Eleanor was different. She was raised to turn her head when her husband took mistresses, and naturally she would feel less pain than Anne would have, as she was not in love with Henry and Henry was not in love with her.

Not, Henry admitted to himself, that he was in love with Catherine Harding, either. But that didn't matter – he was allowed to do as he pleased, and if she pleased him, then she was his, so long as she herself did not protest.

Henry also found himself fond of her family. Her sisters, Isabel, Agnes, and Jane, were charming girls who ranged from eighteen to twelve, and he found them very agreeable company. Her mother was dead and her father, Sir Edward Harding, was out in the country, but Henry also found good company with her brothers, John and Edward.

He had knighted John, and was vaguely making the same plans for Edward. Isabel was betrothed, and Henry planned to attend the wedding, which was in two months time. Jane, the youngest, was also betrothed, to a ward of her father's. The little boy was a year her senior and a baron, which greatly pleased her father.

Henry intended to help the Hardings in finding suitable matches not only for Catherine but also for her sister Agnes, who Henry thought was the gayest young woman he had ever met.

"Ahh, George," Henry greeted as his brother-in-law came in and bowed before sitting opposite Henry. Between them was a game of chess, and Henry moved one of the pieces. George repeated his actions. "How have you been, George? And how is your family?"

"I'm married," George grumbled, and Henry had to laugh at his friend's face.

"You do not like married life, then," he confirmed.

"It's not so much married life as the woman I married," George vented. "Lady Jane Parker was a splendid match in terms of fortune and her father is a baron, which makes her good in terms of station, as well. But in person she's a bit…"

Henry laughed, having much the same opinion of the girl. "She's something," he agreed.

"The rest of my family is fine," he confirmed. "Little Lady Catherine Carey flourishes in the royal nursery, and Mary is with child again. Her husband is delighted."

"And how are Baron and Baroness Hunsdon?" Henry asked, referring to William Carey and Mary Boleyn by the title Baron Hunsdon that had been granted to the former.

"Well enough," George rolled his eyes. "Mary frets, as always. She's a letter from Jacqueline, confirming that she, Luc and Brigitte are alright, and that always raises Mary's spirits."

"Naturally," Henry agreed. "And how are your father and stepmother, and their little ones?"

"Father is anxious for an heir from me," George complained, and Henry remembered with a pang that he, too, had this problem. "My stepmother, Catherine Ellis, stays at Hever Castle with her children and Grandmother Boleyn, though I don't know how she puts up with the old hoot."

"Margaret Butler, am I correct?" Henry asked, recalling Anne's family tree. Thomas Boleyn's mother had been the oldest daughter of the Earl of Ormond, the title that George himself now held.

"Yes," George grumbled, and Henry remembered his own grandmother, Margaret Beaufort. If there ever was a woman of indomitable will, it would be Margaret Beaufort. In this, Henry could sympathize with George. "I remember her being grouchy and irritable when we lived at Hever, but she's over seventy now. She's only gotten worse."

"I suppose the Duchess of Wiltshire must enjoy her company," Henry guessed, unable to think of any other explanation for why Catherine Ellis would not join her husband Thomas Boleyn at court to enjoy the favor and luxuries their family was frequently awarded.

"I don't see how," George grumbled. "I was just there last week, and couldn't have gotten out fast enough. My brother Henry attacked me with his schoolbooks just as I was heading off."

"How old is he now? And the others?" Henry asked curiously.

"Henry's eight," George confirmed with a role of his eyes. "William's seven and a right laugh, I tell you, that boy is so much like Father. Margaret's five and Catherine's four, and they've yet to be any trouble at all."

"Not like Anne, then?"

"Not like Anne," George confirmed, remembering how hard-pressed their governesses and tutors were to keep Anne in line.

"I don't think anyone could be quite like Anne," Henry muttered. This time, his thoughts were not on how Eleanor failed to live up to Anne's standards, but on how Catherine Harding failed to live up to Anne's standards.

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long for me to update! I've been so busy, not that that's an excuse. Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Time Jump, 17 June 1526_

"What should I wear for my coronation?" Eleanor, who was going to be anointed Queen of England in less than an hour, was frantic.

"Something to call attention to your pregnancy," Juana advised. "Wear something to let everyone know that you are Queen of England, and you are carrying the Prince of Wales."

"Yes," Eleanor agreed with her hand on her stomach. She was only three months along in her pregnancy, but already she was showing a little if she tried to accentuate it. Juana brought over to her a lovely dress of dark purple. "That should do the trick."

Eleanor smiled. Even from this gloomy room in the Tower of London, where she was required to spend the night before her coronation, she could not help but be happy. Poor Arthur had been dead for three weeks, and it was time for his brother to be proclaimed King of England.

King Henry VIII and Queen Eleanor.

Eleanor smiled and let out a shaky breath. The fact that she was pregnant never ceased to make her spirits lift, so she concentrated on that before she thought of the stream of people who would be watching her as she was anointed Queen of England.

Today was her day, and she had to remember it.

_A few hours later_

The celebration of the King and Queen's coronation was a ridiculously large one, but Katherine supposed they had a lot to celebrate.

Not only were they the King and Queen, but the Queen was also carrying the child that everyone expected to be the next Prince of Wales. She was happy for them, too, but some part of her was sad. She remembered her own coronation day – when she and Arthur had been the stars that Henry and Eleanor were now.

Katherine's gaze fell on the children. The entire nursery full of them had been brought to court for the celebration, and they all looked so excited. The governess held the baby, Lord Henry Carey, while the other children laughed and played.

Princess Mary, not yet a year old, giggled and crawled at the governess's ankles with Lady Catherine Carey. Princess Elizabeth and Lord Henry Brandon raced through the feet of the courtiers, many of whom laughed and petted the children affectionately. Due to Charles Brandon's elevation to Duke of Suffolk during the coronation, Henry Brandon was now styled "Earl of Lincoln."

Seven year old Henry Fitzroy, who had been made Duke of Richmond at his father's coronation, chatted excitedly with Lady Eleanor Brandon, who was also seven, and her sister Lady Frances Brandon, who was nine. The group was occasionally joined by Lady Margaret Douglas, who was eleven and was attempting to mingle with the grown-ups.

"They look happy, don't they?" a voice said, and Katherine turned to see Lady Hunsdon, Anne Boleyn's sister.

"Yes, they do," she agreed happily. "I do love those children. And I imagine that they'll soon be joined by a Prince of Wales."

"If that is God's wish," Lady Hunsdon agreed. "Does Your Majesty intend to remain at court?"

"Yes, at least for now," Queen Katherine smiled. She had always liked Anne's sister. "The Queen of England is a hard role to play. I shall remain here to assist my niece in taking up that role."

"I'm sure Queen Eleanor will appreciate that," Mary Carey nodded. "Particularly as she starts that role while she is already with child. Have the King and Queen chose a name for the child?"

"Henry is always an option," the Dowager Queen smiled amusedly. "I would like to think that since the child is born so soon after his uncle's death, they will call him Arthur to honor my husband. But I can have no guarantees on the subject until the child is christened."

"And for a girl?" the baroness prompted.

"The King prefers to think only that the child will be a son," she said, disapproval strong in her voice. "But considering he has one daughter named for his mother and another for one sister, he would name a third Margaret, for his eldest sister."

"Or Katherine, for your Majesty," Lady Hunsdon suggested.

"I doubt that," Katherine exchanged a smile with the younger woman. "Eleanor is always an option, for her mother, but I doubt he would ever call his child Anne."

"As do I," Mary agreed, thinking wistfully of her sister.

"I just hope that this one is a son, so that England can have a secure heir," the Dowager Queen sighed. "Elizabeth would make a wonderful Queen, but England would not take kindly to a female ruler. But if it is a girl, let us hope that the King does not take unkindly to it."

"Amen," agreed the baroness.

_Meanwhile_

"I don't think I've ever seen so happy a court," the new King laughed animatedly. His mistress, Catherine Harding, sat delicately on his arm.

Her family had never been in such high favor – her brothers were both knights, and her sisters were all married. She herself had a dowry that grew in size each night, and her list of potential husbands grew larger and more attractive with it.

"I think Your Majesty's court will be the happiest in all of Europe," she said, knowing how well he took to flattery.

"I think you are right, my dear," he smiled. "Charles, what do you say that I invite other monarchs here, in a show of alliance? Charles V is the brother of my Queen, so naturally he would be among them. And I would love to show off my court to King Francis."

"And your nephew, James V," Charles Brandon reminded him. "Lady Margaret Douglas would love to see her brother, and your sister Margaret could come as well."

"Ahh, that would be splendid!" Henry smiled at the thought. "And my court would be the envy of all the other monarchs – as would our women." He laughed heartily at that, and the others joined in. "Who could help but be jealous of me when I am surrounded by women like this?" He gestured to Catherine, who mockingly curtsied. "And my wonderful children, of course," he added, as Princess Elizabeth ran by and he ruffled her hair.

"When is the prince to be born, Your Majesty?" inquired another courtier.

"Another December baby I think," the King laughed and grinned. "For the new year I shall have a son!"

There was a series of applause at this comment, and Henry scooped up his favorite daughter and placed her on his knee.

"Now, Elizabeth," he asked her. "Would you like to have another brother?"

"Another brother?" she asked, looking up at him. "No, I don't think so. Hal teases me enough for two as it is." Henry laughed at her comment, and the rest followed his lead.

"What if it was a little brother this time? One who wouldn't tease you?"

"Little like Mary?" she pondered the question as her father nodded. "I _suppose _that would be alright. But he'd have to _promise _not to cry and disturb my lessons like Henry Carey does." This provoked another course of laughed and Henry set his daughter on the ground, delighted with her response.

"We are at the beginning of a perfect world, Your Majesty," a courtier cried out.

"Indeed we are," Henry said with a smile. He refused to let his smile fade as others laughed and chatted about this perfect world, while he thought of the one flaw it had.

The Queen of this world was Queen Eleanor; the Queen of the perfect world was Queen Anne.

_The same night, Hever Castle_

Catherine Boleyn, nee Ellis, Duchess of Wiltshire, sat delicately on the stool in her bedroom. Her needlework had long ago fallen to her lap.

"Are you alright, Your Grace?" her maid, Joan, asked.

"I'm quite fine," she smiled at the girl. "You're free to go, Joan."

"Yes, Your Grace," the girl curtsied before closing the door softly behind her.

The Duchess sighed, gazing sadly out the window. For a moment she thought she could hear the sounds of celebration all the way from London. But no – that was not it. It was the sounds of silence that were ringing in her ears – the sounds of loneliness.

She was happy here – happier in the country, with her children, then she ever could be in the city. Henry and William, her boys, took up most of her time. In fact, it was their things that she had been patching up only moments ago. Her daughters, Margaret and Catherine, were darling girls and the duchess' pride and joy. Even her mother-in-law wasn't so bad – the old lady could even be amusing at times.

Still, she would like it very much if her husband came home more often. But he was always at court.

He had things to look after – two children were there, not to mention three grandchildren, one a princess.

But that didn't mean that he didn't have four children, a wife, and a mother here. All Catherine wanted was a little of her husband's affection and attention. She wasn't quite sure why that was a problem.

Catherine's own father had died when she was young and her mother, Jane Wentworth, had been widowed at a most inconvenient time. She'd had to rely on her sisters, Margery and Elizabeth, for support for the first year of her widowhood, after which Catherine had been given her father's fortune.

Elizabeth Wentworth's family was little help after that first year, but Margery Wentworth and her husband, Sir John Seymour, certainly were. Sir John had made Catherine his ward, and Jane Wentworth Ellis died a few months later. She had grown up with her cousins, who were all younger than her.

Catherine had no one to support her if anything should happen to her husband. She had no siblings or parents, and her father had no relatives. Elizabeth Wentworth's family was all virtually strangers to her; the Seymours were all she had.

Margery Wentworth had raised young Catherine Ellis when her mother died. There had been talk of Catherine marrying her oldest son, Edward Seymour, but he was years younger than she was and nothing had come of it.

She had married Sir Thomas Boleyn before his daughter made him a duke; the marriage was not supposed to be quite as advantageous as it had ended up being. Nonetheless, the only significant change Catherine felt from her husband's rise was a little extra income and a few changes in titles – from "my lady" to "Your Grace" and in her children's case, the titles "lord" and "lady."

Those didn't make her any less lonely.

"I don't know how you do it," she muttered to herself. "I don't know how you live like this."

**A/N: That was pretty much a filler chapter, to make Henry the King, show that a new baby is coming, and introduce that Thomas Boleyn's wife is a relative of the Seymours. That will come up again later, I promise! Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

_9 August 1526_

"Lady Elizabeth Howard," Queen Eleanor mused as said lady waited on her. "Correct me if I am wrong, Lady Elizabeth, but was that not the name of Anne Boleyn's mother before she became Lady Elizabeth Boleyn?"

"Yes, Madam, it was," twelve-year-old Elizabeth Howard nodded. "Lady Elizabeth Boleyn was my half-sister, Madam. We have the same father – the 2nd Duke of Norfolk – but different mothers. Her mother is Elizabeth Tilney and mine is Agnes Tilney."

"I see," the Queen nodded. "And how do you like court, Lady Elizabeth? Do you enjoy it as much as your sister was said to?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Elizabeth replied. She knew that the Queen was not truly interested in how she liked court, but as Queen she felt obligated to ask.

"That is good," the Queen glanced around absent-mindedly. "You're a pretty girl. Are you being courted at all?"

Elizabeth blushed. "No, Madam," she said. "I think I am too young for that."

"Perhaps," the Queen agreed. "Well, I'm glad you are part of my household, Lady Elizabeth."

"I am glad to be here, Your Majesty," the girl nodded before curtsying and continuing with her duties.

Ever since the arrival of the "young Howard party," as the family had dubbed it, Elizabeth had secretly been seeing Henry Radcliffe, the heir of the Earl of Sussex. She hoped to marry him, but as she'd told the Queen, she was young.

"I saw you talking with the Queen," Muriel Knyvett whispered to her as she passed. "If you can, try to make yourself one of her favorites. You've got a better chance than I do at it. I'll work on Catherine Harding."

Elizabeth nodded – she got the better job of the two. Muriel wasn't exactly a flatterer, so she wouldn't get along well with royalty. Despite the fact that Muriel was older, Elizabeth thought it ironic that Muriel was her niece – so, too, was the dead Anne Boleyn.

It had taken them extraordinarily long to come to court after the Howard family meeting. Just before they were to arrive, one of their party, the twenty-year-old Elizabeth Grey, Baroness Lisle, the Earl of Devon's wife, had died. Lady Lisle had been the half-sister of Muriel and her brother Thomas, so they had wanted to delay arriving. Thus, the party had only arrived a few weeks before.

In those few weeks, Elizabeth Howard had already come to detest Catherine Harding. She thought the girl was a flirt, and each member of the girl's family was haughty and thought they were infinitely superior. All three of her sisters were now married and both of her brother's knighted. As if a couple of knighthoods made a family so great!

Elizabeth's brothers William and Thomas, as well as Thomas Knyvett, seemed to have a much better job than she and Muriel had. They attended on the King; unlike his wife, the King was a very active person. He often went hunting or played sports outside, inviting his favorite companions to come with him. In the Queen's household, it was considered lucky if the Queen went out walking and took one with her.

"It's all for the family," Elizabeth repeated under her breath. It was the mantra her half-brother the Duke had imbued in her head before sending her to court. "Everything I do is for the Howards."

_12 August 1526_

"It is so very hot," Catherine Harding moaned, leaning on the King's arm. "I don't know how Your Majesty manages to play sports in such heat."

"It is certainly not so bad," the King laughed with an arm around her waist. "There are men who work harder than I in this intolerable heat. George Boleyn, for example," the King gestured to his former brother-in-law, who quickly made his way over.

"Your Majesty," he greeted.

"Ah, George," the King walked away from Catherine to talk with the Boleyn heir. "How have you been?"

"Wonderful, Your Majesty," he said. "I've been practicing my tennis for most of the summer. I would offer Your Majesty a challenge if I did not think I would be tearing you away from such a lovely woman as the one over there." George nodded in Catherine's general direction.

"Ah, yes," Henry grimaced. "I may take you up on that offer, George."

"Is there a problem, Sire?" George asked cautiously. He didn't want Henry to think he was butting in on his business, but he had to know if there was a problem with Henry and his mistress. If there was, it would be a perfect opportunity for one of the Howard or Boleyn girls to snatch him up for a few months.

"You know how it is," Henry admitted, "when you tire of a woman. Yet she is still there, and expects attention."

"Marry her off," George suggested, "I'm sure I could find some gentleman willing to marry the King's mistress for a bit of an extra dowry."

"I shall do that, soon," King Henry admitted. "But I would rather not take another mistress while the Queen is with child. Perhaps it can wait until my son is born."

"Have you decided what you will name the Prince, Sire?"

"Arthur," the king declared. "Arthur, Prince of Wales. It sounds well, does it not? And it is fitting and expected, with my brother so recently dead."

"Yes," George agreed. "I'm sure the late King Arthur would be flattered by the choice."

"Indeed he would," Henry agreed. "And I shall name my second son Henry, for myself and my father."

"And daughters?"

"I've Elizabeth and Mary already," the King reminded his brother-in-law. "I suppose Margaret or Katherine would do if I have any others."

"Your Majesty will likely be blessed with many more children," George confirmed.

"Yes," Henry looked proud. "I am a fertile man, no doubt capable of fathering healthy heirs. What about you, George? Will there soon be a Viscount Rochford in the royal nursery?"

"Not that I am aware of," the earl laughed. "But if you wanted a more accurate answer, I'm sure you could go to my wife. She would know better than I."

"I'm not sure I would dare," the King joked, "for Jane Parker is frightening for a woman."

"You can say that again."

_15 August 1526_

"Has the King taken a new mistress?"

"Not that I know of, Catherine," Sir John Harding assured his anxious sister.

"He has not sent for me in a week!" she ranted. "And I haven't seen him _in three days_! The last time I _did _see him, he brushed me off completely for George Boleyn!"

"At least it was George Boleyn and not another lady," Jane Harding smiled at her sister, comforting her with a hand on her shoulder. "Even if your affair with the King ends now, you've done remarkable well for us. John and Edward and both knighted, and Isabel, Agnes, and I are each well-married. And King Henry will certainly pay your dowry and arrange a marriage for you."

"And if he does not?"

"If he does not, you will still have the dowry set aside for you," Sir John reminded her. "Not to mention that we will give you some of the money set aside for Jane, Isabel, and Agnes' dowries that we did not need to use."

"What good will does that do, if the King's favor and gratitude does not come with it?"

"Money is a surprisingly influencing factor," Sir John laughed. "You would be surprised if you know how influencing. Calm yourself down, Catherine, and stop worrying about nothing. Jane's right, you've done well either way."

_22 September 1526_

It had been a long time since Thomas Howard, Duke of Wiltshire, had been to Hever Castle.

"Thomas!" his wife had cried upon seeing him. The shock written on her face was evident.

"Send for the children," he had ordered, "And pack your things. I need a wife at court. My mother can mind the children."

She had scurried about while he went down for a meal, and when he was finished his children were presented to him.

They were younger than he had hoped. Of course he knew their ages, but they were younger in looks and in actions than he had expected. He was certain that by age eight George knew how to sit still at least for an hour, which neither of his younger sons could do. He was sure that both Mary and Anne could curtsy without tripping by age five, which neither Margaret nor Catherine could do.

But why should he hope for anything different? He had sent Mary and Anne to the Netherlands at a young age, to be educated with prominent families of status. They had then gone to France, to be mistress to the King or dear friend of the princess.

With George, he had not sent the boy away but rather brought him to court when he was young. Most of George's advanced education had been completed in England, but the end had been in France, and all three of his elder children were bright.

But then, their mother had known what was best. She had relinquished her children at young ages for the greater good. As a duke's daughter, she knew that this was necessary. However, his current wife was a knight's daughter, and had lived in poverty for the majority of her life. She would need to be forced to let go of her children.

Thomas Boleyn turned to his wife and his mother.

"There will be some changes around here," he declared. "Mother, as always you will have this place to yourself. I will not disturb you or in any way inflict upon your routine here. Catherine," he nodded to his wife, "you shall be coming to court with me. As I said, it is necessary for my wife to be present. For the time being, Mother, I shall ask you to supervise the children. They won't be here much longer."

"Where are you sending them?" the Duchess of Wiltshire demanded.

"To the Netherlands," the Duke declared. "Margaret of Austria, with whom Anne was a great favorite as a child, has agreed as a favor to take our children, as well as my French grandchildren, into her household."

"The Netherlands?"

"Yes, the Netherlands," he confirmed. "Margaret of Austria will give them an exemplary education and they will return to England as some of the most sophisticated members of society." With that, Thomas Boleyn walked away from his wife, mother, and young children. "Now, let me speak with the tutor you have engaged for the children."

_7 October 1526_

The arrival of the Duchess of Wiltshire to England was quite a surprise to many people at the English court.

"He hates his wife," some whispered to the others. "Why bring her to court, where he'll have to deal with her daily? The Duke of Norfolk never does it."

Thomas knew by now that he had to ignore the court whispers. But Catherine, entering this new environment – she hadn't been to court for years, and then not for long at all – was disconcerted by the stares and whispers.

"For heaven's sake," Lady Ormond, nee Lady Jane Parker, George's wife, complained. "She's frightful."

"She's hardly the ideal wife for my father," George agreed. "You'll have to help her."

"Ha!" Jane had laughed. All of court thought it strange how suddenly George could tolerate his wife when his options were spending time with her or babysitting his stepmother.

"If one good thing comes from her being here," Queen Mary laughed to Queen Katherine and Queen Eleanor, "it will be a Viscount Rochford." They had laughed heartily over the joke, for they all found the Duchess of Wiltshire to be annoying. She grew uncomfortable and didn't crave their attention like others did, shrinking from it rather rudely.

"Oh, hush, Mary," Queen Katherine scolded, "You shouldn't say such things."

"It is true," Mary had laughed. "I hear that the Duke of Wiltshire is sending the four little ones to the Netherlands – Margaret of Austria is to watch them. She was your sister-in-law, at one point, wasn't she, Katherine?"

"Yes, my brother was her first husband," Katherine nodded, "and then he died. Poor boy, I was very fond of him. I'm sure Margaret will take excellent care of them and see to their education."

"I would imagine," Queen Eleanor agreed. "She's my aunt, in some ways, so I ought to have the utmost confidence in her."

"She had the care of Anne as a child," Mary recalled. "And she turned out rather well, despite the negative influence of the French court."

"If only Mary Boleyn went to her as well," Queen Katherine said, before covering her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that." The other Queens giggled.

"Truly, though," Eleanor said, "did she not have three bastards with the King of France?"

"She did," Mary agreed. "They're going to Margaret of Austria, too, I think. She really adored Anne Boleyn, didn't she?"

"Everyone adored Anne Boleyn," Queen Katherine reminded her. "Even Henry."

"Henry was utterly infatuated," Mary said. "And he had so much competition for her hand, too! Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland's son, was wild for her. And Piers Butler wanted her to marry his son James so they could combine their claims to the Earldom of Ormond. Not to mention Thomas Wyatt."

"He wrote the sweetest poetry for her," Katherine recalled. "I'm sure you've read them, Eleanor, they're simply marvelous. But even he couldn't turn her head from Henry."

"Wyatt," Eleanor muttered. "Yes, I've read his work. That was about Anne Boleyn?"

"Yes, it was," Katherine smiled. "Most of it was, at least."

_24 October 1526_

"Thank you!" Jane Boleyn nee Parker, Countess of Ormond, was so happy. She resisted the urge to do a dance as she pressed some coins into the midwife's hand.

"Well?" her husband asked, coming back into the room.

"I'm with child," she announced, fairly dancing in circles. "We're going to have a baby."

"Excellent!" George laughed with delight. Not only would he get his wife out of his hair – sending her to Hever for her health – but he would also get his father off his back about having an heir. "Pack your things. I'll ride with you to Hever tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she asked, her face falling. "So soon?"

"Yes," he nodded. "The country is the best place for you, and my grandmother will make sure everything goes well."

_25 October 1526_

"She's with child, I'd wager," Maria de Salinas, the favorite Spanish companion of Katherine, muttered to Juana, the favorite Spanish companion of Eleanor.

"Certainly," Juana giggled. "It seemed the queens were correct in that assumption."

The Queens themselves were walking about the garden ahead of the ladies. Queen Mary spoke hopefully of a Boleyn child joining the Hatfield nursery soon.

"Wouldn't it be strange if they named a daughter Anne?" she asked. "People would jump out of their seats when 'Anne Boleyn' was announced!"

"It's more likely that they'd name their eldest girl Jane, for her mother," Katherine speculated. "I'm not even sure Henry would like it if they named a daughter Anne. He might pull a melancholy stage and mope around every day for weeks."

"Katherine!" the other two cried in shock.

"Oh, don't be so surprised," she scolded. "You both know he does that."

"You needn't _say_ it," Eleanor laughed. "Thank Heaven no one heard you."

"You heard me," Katherine smiled. "You won't turn me in. You and everyone else at court know I am most loyal to my people."

"Yes, of course," Mary giggled. "And you are right."

Suddenly, the ladies were interrupted by a wild horse and rider storming through the palace gates and garden.

"What on Earth?"

Katherine stopped him and sent one of her ladies to the house for information.

Moments later, the lady came running back in a most unbecoming manner.

"That was a representative of the King of France," the lady breathed. "He has come to convince the King to join in the League of Cognac against Charles V. The King is considering it."

A moment of silence filled the room as this sank into their minds. Then, Eleanor let out a shriek.

Everyone turned to look at the Queen. She was clutching her stomach, staring in horror at something.

Blood.

**A/N: Cliffhanger. Will she lose the baby? Anyway, sorry it's taken forever for me to update. I'll try to be quicker, I promise. **


	7. Chapter 7

_1 November 1526_

"I shall not go to war," Henry moped. "I have begged neutrality in the matter. All because the thought of war distressed my wife so much that she nearly miscarried my child."

"Perhaps you can go after the birth of the prince," Charles suggested. Mary scoffed.

"I'm rather glad you're not going," she sighed. "War is dangerous, we know that. I'd rather not lose anyone when the conflict will likely be resolved without us."

"We can only hope," Katherine agreed. "England does not need to go to war right now. We are a happy country with no direct threats at the moment; and we have a prince on the way. For the time being we will simply resolve minor conflicts with alliances."

"Let us talk no longer of war," Henry grumbled. "If I cannot fight in it, I do not want to hear of it."

_25 December 1526_

Compared to the last Christmas, this one was quiet and hopeful. Last Christmas, there was a new princess in the cradle. This year, a prince was in the Queen's stomach and everyone was internally praying for his safe delivery.

There were children running around, but there was something solemn in the atmosphere. Mary Carey nee Boleyn, Baroness Hunsdon, cradled her newborn son Henry Carey in her arms. When the children left after the New Year celebrations and the birth of the prince, Lord Henry Carey would be joining them.

Catherine Harding sat with her betrothed, a friendly knight of good status and connections but whom she found ceaselessly dull. He was an intelligent man but not very crafty or ambitious, and despite his warm heart he was shy, and had never had much success with women.

The absence of Queen Eleanor was a ring of hope for the courtiers. Every ear was open for the screams of a woman in labor, and every person kept a close eye on the King.

King Henry himself was jubilantly happy. He could not contain his joy and was laughing at the slightest of jokes. He paid no particular attention to any lady, the thought of the son that would soon enter the cradle too overwhelming for him to think of anything else.

"If it were me, I would enjoy the absence of my wife," George Boleyn muttered to Sir Francis Weston, a friend of the Boleyn families. "In fact, that is exactly what I am doing. It is a pity my father does not do the same."

Sir Francis laughed, well aware that the public opinion of the Duchess of Wiltshire was that she was naïve and child-like in a way that most children were not. He knew George had an even lower opinion of her than anyone else.

"You are not thrilled, then, with the impending prospect of fatherhood?"

"I will not treat my children as political tools, as my father has done," George vowed. "I will have one in May, be it a girl or a boy, and I will adore it. Perhaps it would be better if it were a girl."

"You are a strange man to think so," Sir Francis remarked.

"How could I not? It would infuriate my father; you must know that I love to infuriate him. He has decided that my son's name will be Thomas. I have no choice in that matter. But if it is a girl than I can decide on my own what to call her."

"And what will you call her?"

"Not Anne, if that is what you're asking," George had to laugh. "It would be amusing to watch the court in fifteen years, when she arrives and they announce 'Lady Anne Boleyn.' But I should like something more neutral."

"Will you name her Jane then, for her mother?"

"No!" George look horrified at the thought. "If another Anne Boleyn would be bad, another Jane Boleyn would be worse. I'll use something that is not in my family tree – Alice, perhaps, for my mother-in-law; or else something completely out of the blue. Anne would have liked for me to name my daughter Renee."

"I'm sure she would," Francis laughed, and was about to add something more when everything was interrupted.

Suddenly, there was a heart-wrenching scream.

_Later_

"My son, born on Christmas Day," King Henry announced proudly. "The Christmas Prince! All of Europe shall know of him as England's Christmas Baby."

"The date is fortunate indeed," Katherine admitted to her brother-in-law. "The Prince of Wales will share his date of birth with the Christ Child."

There were cheers that were calmed only by the arrival of Juana, Eleanor's favorite companion. All attention was turned toward the Spanish lady.

"Well?" the King demanded, "How is the prince?"

"The Prince is well, Sire," she smiled, bursting with laughter, "And so is the Princess."

Cheers rang out at the news before anyone could even comprehend what was said. "Princess?"

"Indeed, Majesty," Juana curtsied, delight coloring her features. "Her Majesty the Queen has given birth to twins, a prince and a princess."

"Well," Henry paused, before bursting into laughter. "This is good news indeed! Ring the bells! What name has the Queen given our children?"

"None, Sire," Juana admitted.

"Arthur and Katherine, then," he declared, "Arthur, Prince of Wales, and Princess Katherine."

More cheers followed the declaration and Dowager Queen Katherine blushed at the compliment. The cheers multiplied when the babies were brought to their father, and the other children were brought to meet the newest members of the nursery.

_1 January 1527_

Queen Eleanor's return to court was a triumph. People welcomed her and smiled at her, and she found herself even more popular than before. Nothing could wipe the smile off of her face.

Henry was more doting and attentive than ever; on New Year's Day he held a joust in her honor, during which he made a show of asking her for her favor. She gave it to him delightedly, internally hoping that this happiness would not be ruined by some other whore who would soon give him another son.

The children cheered on their father enthusiastically. Princess Elizabeth delightedly gave her favor to her uncle, the Earl of Ormond, who fought fiercely with it. He was only just defeated by Charles Brandon, who was then defeated by King Henry. Never before had the English court been a livelier place.

"You would think it was a different place," Queen Eleanor remarked to her aunt, Queen Katherine.

"You would," she agreed. "I haven't seen the courtiers this happy since Margaret Beaufort died."

Eleanor smiled; she'd heard horror stories about the formidable Lady Margaret Beaufort; to her, she was the example of what a Queen should not be.

"Catherine Harding is gone for good, then?" Eleanor whispered and Katherine nodded.

"She's still at court, but I doubt that she'll ever be the King's mistress again," the Dowager smiled, "she's married now. But don't get too comfortable with having him all to yourself. He's not the faithful sort."

"I've gotten the first mistress out of the way," Eleanor sighed and held her head up high. "I've heard that the first is always the worst, and now I've got my son. I know that I'm safe."

"You've always been safe," Katherine argued. "You're his wife and Queen, and no one can argue that point. And just look at him – joy over this son just might make him fall in love with you."

"I can only hope," Eleanor sighed.

_14 January 1527_

"Oh, God!" cried Queen Eleanor upon receiving the message. Her baby, her Prince Arthur, was ill.

"Is Arthur the only one ill?" King Henry snapped, unable to believe that of all the children, only the Prince of Wales had gotten sick.

"They are all somewhat ill," the messenger reported, "and Lady Bryan believes it is some mild form of the plague. But the Prince is worse than the rest."

"But he is not yet a month old!" cried the Queen. "How could he have gotten sick?"

"Exposure, Madam," the messenger explained. "The companions and attendants of the Prince likely had cases so mild they did not even know they were ill. They passed the illness to the Prince without realizing it, and for such a small child, only a few days old, such a thing in any form could be dangerous."

"Is the Princess Katherine not ill?" Henry demanded. "She is as young as her brother."

"It seems whoever passed the illness to the Princess had a far milder case than whoever passed the illness to the Prince," the messenger inferred, "for while she is ill it is not as severely. Forgive me for bearing bad news, Your Majesties."

"For Heaven's sake, send them doctors," cried the Queen. "Every doctor in England, for all I care, but save my son!"

_15 January 1527_

There had been nothing anyone could do.

Of all the children to die, it had to be Arthur, her Christmas Prince. It had to be the child who made her feel secure in her position as Queen of England. It had to be her son.

She was glad, thankful that Mary and Katherine and the others had all lived; but it was not the same. Elizabeth was once again heir to the throne; Eleanor was once again a mother with no son.

She knelt at the altar for hours at a time; no one but Queen Katherine had the patience to spend those long hours with her, for she refused to do anything but pray for the soul of her dead child. Henry was finding his own ways to mope, likely with some whore or a good round of hunting. But he was no longer her loyal the loving husband, thankful for a Prince from her.

She could only hope that there would be more children, more sons. She was fertile; there was no reason why she should not have a son. But then she thought of Queen Katherine and King Arthur – was it the Tudors who had trouble bearing sons?

But no – if it was either her fault or Henry's fault that they were sonless, it would be on her that the blame would fall. Henry had four children now, and one of them was a healthy son, even if he was a bastard. But she had three children – one Infanta Maria in Portugal, for her Portuguese son had died; and then Mary and Katherine in England. She had only daughters, but he had a son.

She could only hope that another Prince would make its way into her cradle before long – only a son would be able to spare her this agony.

So she would pray – all day, and all night, she would pray.

**A/N: Sorry that this was so short! But a lot happened, and the next chapter will be a considerable time jump. Thanks for reading, please review!**


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